Call and Answer: Please Be There
by Feline Alchemist
Summary: Blaine feels like he's alone in the world, forgotten, and he's never had a relationship. Throwing a pity party for himself in his apartment and overcome with the need to talk to someone, he calls a phone sex line, and one Kurt Hummel is his operator. They get to talking and suddenly they are more than just a one-time fit of loneliness and a night at work to each other. AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I saw someone on my tumblr dash begging for a klaine AU in which Kurt is a phone sex line operator and Blaine calls one night feeling lonely, and they fall in love over the phone through many calls after that first one, and eventually meeting face to face, and for some reason I could not resist. So here's chapter 1!**

"You sure you don't want to come out with us? Get a few drinks?" David's voice comes through the phone line with a hint of static. Blaine can hear a woman talking with someone in the background.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm just gonna stay home tonight. You know, work to do, chores I've been putting off…" He really does wish he could go out and enjoy quality time with his friend, but, not for the first time and certainly not the last, he wishes he didn't have to be alone.

David was bringing his fiancé, afterall, and Blaine couldn't stop himself from wondering where his somebody was.

David sighs through the static, as if he could hear his friend's thoughts. "Alright. Some other time, then? You'd better text me." Blaine smiles weakly to himself, thankful David knows him well enough not to press it further.

"Yeah, absolutely. Tell Stacy I said hi, ok?" With David's affirmation he ends the call and sets his phone down on an end table, promptly throwing himself face-first onto the couch so he can groan loudly into a throw pillow.

He is so sick of being alone.

He wishes there is someone he could connect to, who knows what this feels like. But everyone he knows- and he's double-checked at least four times, desperate to come to the realization that he isn't the only one of his friends who's never been in a relationship- has always had someone who understands them.

He sits up and shakes his head, wiping the all-too-familiar-lately moisture from his eyes and refusing to have another pity party for himself. He has better things to concentrate on this fine, lonely evening.

His stomach gargles noisily and he stands, making his way to his small kitchen, glad to have been presented with a distraction.

He digs around in the freezer and pulls out a microwaveable meal for one, starts it cooking, grabs one can of Pepsi from the fridge, pulls out the one chair at his barely-big-to-qualify-as-one table, and sinks into it like a scoop of ice cream that has fallen from someone's cone, sad and forgotten and left to melt there on the hot pavement.

He drops his head down on the table with a thud and wrenches his eyes shut, trying to convince himself that this wasn't one of those nights, sufferingly long and unbearably empty.

Some part of him knows that he could be doing something about his soul-crushing loneliness, he could be putting himself out there, meeting people, initiating things. But a bigger part of him still wants to be swept off his feet by a beautiful prince with angelic features and deep, sparkling eyes, like he'd seen in Disney movies as a child. He wants to ask a stranger for directions and be met with his soulmate, or bump something out of someone's hands, apologize profusely, bend down to pick the thing up and suddenly be struck by cupid's arrow.

He also knows that that is very improbable and that his silly fantasies are probably the reason he's been single his whole life.

He's yanked free of his suffocating thoughts by the dinging of the microwave, and his eyes snap open. He swears it's saying _lo-ser, lone-ly, sad-sack_. He shoots it an irritable glare and decides to ignore it while his food cools inside, his gaze lowering back to the tabletop.

That's when an ad in the paper lying sprawled across its surface inexplicably catches his eye.

No, he couldn't.

First off, he's never done _anything_ of that sort before, and he's certain he'd be horrible at it. Secondly, despite the pity party he was currently having and swore he wouldn't be, he hasn't convinced himself that he's _that_ level of desperate.

Though he could get something good out of it…

He worries his lower lip as he intently writes up a pros and cons list in his head. And because he's alone in his apartment, he's more than willing to forget his troubles for even a little while, he's weepingly lonely, he can't deny the validity of a good list, and he's so, so incredibly _alone_, he snatches up his home phone from the hook and shakily dials the number.

After a ring and a half someone picks up, practically purring into the receiver pressed against Blaine's ear and his nerves haven't calmed down in the slightest.

_"Vocal Fantasies Phone Sex Services, how can I make your dreams come true?"_

Chapter 2 coming soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter 2! :D Hope you all enjoy, I' love to hear your feedback! Also apologies that these chapters aren't very long, writing monster chapters is hard for me. Enjoy! **

_"Vocal Fantasies Phone Sex Services, how can I make your dreams come true?"_

Blaine choked. _Oh god, what am I doing?! I should've done this, I'm so out of my depth here, why did I ever think this was a good idea-_

"Got any preferences, sweetheart? For 6.99 every 15 minutes, I'll show you a steaming good time~" The voiced purred again, seemingly unfazed by the spluttering death-sounds that preceded it.

"I- Uh... Um, talk to me?" _Really Blaine? You're on the freaking phone, what else do you expect them to do?_ "I mean uh, t-talk... Dirty. To me." The voice chuckled in response, high-pitched and smooth as silk, strange for a man but incredibly intriguing.

It was probably the only reason Blaine hadn't hung up the phone and thrown it across the room yet.

"First time isn't it sweet cheeks? I'm afraid I can tell." His tone wasn't harsh, more amused. _Great, now some random phone sex guy knows he's a complete loser._ He's thankful the man can't see his beet-red blush as he continues, "But that's completely ok, because baby I can show you the world..." Ok, this was getting very uncomfortable.

Blaine cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, actually, can I tell you something?" he knew he wouldn't be able to _actually have phone sex good lord._

The reply was still in that thick, seductive tone that sounded practice-perfected. "Anything you want honey, you're paying me afterall."

"I didn't actually call for... Phone sex. I just- needed to talk to somebody." Blaine was gripping the phone with a clammy grip as he walks out of the kitchen to settle into the couch. By this point he fully expects to be hung up on, or laughed at.

But the man just continues on with the sexual tone and innuendos with "Oh? Well I'll have you know I've got _a lot_ of things we could talk about, cutie, _naughty_ things-"

"Do you ever feel like it's all hopeless? Like if you disappeared no one would really miss you?" Blaine just couldn't take it anymore, he had to get it out there. That is why he called in the first place, afterall.

Now even more than before, he expected to get hung up on. Maybe let down gently, _"I think you've got the wrong hotline, kid" click._

"...yes." the reply was soft, lacking the falsity of before. Raw, honest.

_what?_ "You... You have? To be honest, I wasn't expecting that."

"Story of my life," the voice had completely abandoned the sexual tone and sounded real now, even a bit sad. "Tell me stranger, why'd you call a place like this to ask a question like that?"

Blaine chewed his bottoms lip some more and wondered if he should tell the truth. "I just... Needed to talk to someone. Anyone. About... Things." he could not believe what he was setting himself up to share with a complete stranger, let alone a stranger with _that_ particular profession. But Blaine wasn't one to judge, so he stopped himself from hanging up out of sheer anxiety.

"... What do you want to talk about? Sounds like you could use a good long talk, by the sound of it. That always helped me, talking out my issues with someone, anyone really." Blaine wondered what kind of issues this beautifully voiced person ever had to endure.

"Well, I've just been feeling... Really alone lately. All the time, actually. I've never felt wanted by anyone, for any reason other than mild company. And I am just tired of seeing everyone I know find their one person who completes them and sitting here waiting for mine." Whether it was the fact that this man was a complete stranger or that his voice was so soft and sincere now, Blaine couldn't figure out why he was suddenly an open book to this person. It startled him, but more than that, it felt _really good_ finally voicing his emotions instead of burying them, and he couldn't stop now.

There was a barely-audible hitch of breath on the other end of the line before the man continued. "What's your name?"

Confused, he answered him. "Blaine, Blaine Anderson."

"Well Blaine Anderson, whatever anyone tells you or whatever you may think... You're not alone. Understand?"

"I... Yes. Ok. Um, thank you." he didn't really know what to say, but all thoughts of ending the call were gone from his mind, and he was irrationally intent on keeping this conversation going as long as possible, listening to that lovely voice.

"What do you do, Blaine?"

"Er- I work at a music store. I don't own it or anything, I just organize the CDs."

The other man's tone was significantly lighter at that as he replied, "Oh! So you have an appreciation for music, I see? Either that or you have an unholy love of organizing things."

The quip caught him off guard and he laughed, easily falling into conversation with this stranger. "Both, actually, if you can believe it. I sing too. Mostly just when I'm emotional, but man am I a rock star in the shower."

The other man laughed now, the sound bright and tinkling, like a small waterfall of cerulean liquid. Blaine could hear the smile in his voice. "I bet you are. I... Actually sing, myself. Countertenor."

Blaine gaped. "Countertenor? Really? What I wouldn't give to hear you sing." _Wow, ok. So he's flirting now. Where did that come from? _

The man just laughed again and said "Maybe next time, tiger."

Blaine smiled, and he asked another question, wanting, _needing_ to know more about this beautiful stranger. "What's your name?"

The man hesitated before answering,"...I-I don't want to say."

Blaine's brow wrinkled in confusion, and despite the pang of hurt he felt in his chest he pressed on. "Well, since you won't tell me, I'll have to guess," he had to admit, it hurt that this man really didn't want anything to do with him, that he was only talking to him because he was getting paid. "Elliot?"

The man sighed. "No."

"Christophe?"

"No, just stop-"

"Geoffrey? With a "g" and two "f"s?"

_"Stop!"_ he snapped, his voice loud and desperate.

Blaine cringed slightly and pulled the phone away from his ear, confused as to what exactly he did wrong. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pressed, it's just I gave you my name and I figured we were getting along so-" he's cut off again by the other man, this time he sounds pleading, desperate.

"I don't want you to know me as that phone sex guy... That's not who I am. You're different and that's- I'm not that guy, ok?"

Blaine really didn't know what to say to that. For a moment he didn't say anything. He broke the silence with a tentative "...Then, who do you want me to know you as?" for some reason, some reflex in his brain, he couldn't just let whatever bond they'd formed stop there.

The man didn't answer him. Blaine continued.

"So far, I've gathered that you're a one-of-a-kind countertenor who's considerate, supportive, witty, all to a complete stranger who needed you, and could have very well been a creep, and not at all what I expected. What else should I add?" Blaine smiled sadly, hoping the man really heard him, and wishing for the umpteenth time for the ability to stop people from hanging up on him.

Just when he thought all hope was lost, the man answered.

"...Kurt. I'm Kurt Hummel."

The line went dead.

Well, that was undoubtedly the _strangest_ first attempt at phone sex he'd ever had.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: My apologies for this taking so long! School has kept me busy and I struggled with the ending. BUT this one is twice as long as the other chapters, so that's a treat! I hope the next chapter comes out faster! Also I'm aware that I switch tenses, it's just how I roll, apparently. **

Several city blocks away, a young man with pale skin and an elfish complexion hangs up his phone and chews his lower lip, his brow wrinkling.

Where on earth had _that_ come from?

Kurt had been working at Vocal Fantasies for almost 6 months now and he'd _never_ had a conversation like the one he'd just hung up on. The voice on the other end for once wasn't panting and laden with need, or gruff and unashamed, but somewhat timid, sincere. Like he really did just need someone, _anyone_ to talk to.

Of all the people in New York City, Kurt Hummel could definitely relate.

He wonders if he'll ever get to talk to Blaine again. A pang in his chest tells him that for some reason he really, _really_ wants to. Maybe he can be the one who makes Blaine's loneliness go away, and he hopes that Blaine could even do the same for him.

Living alone in a rickety apartment in the slums of NYC hasn't gained him many friends, to say the least. There are other reasons why he doesn't have anyone to call his own, any real friends, but right now Kurt really doesn't feel like listing them.

His conversation with this Blaine has put him in a strangely good mood, and he smiles as he takes off his headset and shoulders his bag, his shift over.

For the first time in a long time he leaves work feeling the opposite of dirty and ashamed.

He feels hope.

After waking up the next morning with a smile on his face for the first time in far too long, Blaine decides he has to talk to Kurt again.

First off he didn't hang up on Blaine's problems. He'd actually listened, _cared_ even. People like that were few and far between in Blaine's life, and the fact that Kurt, a complete stranger, had given him what he pines for, even just a taste of it, is special to Blaine.

Secondly, Kurt had sounded just as lonely as he is, and for reasons unknown to Blaine, that broke his heart.

Someone with a voice like Kurt's and kindness to spare with strangers really shouldn't be sad.

The several hours Blaine had between the end of his shift at the music store and a ridiculous hour to be awake were spent internally struggling with whether or not to call Kurt.

Or, more accurately, call the _sex line_ again and try to _find_ Kurt. There must be other people who work there, and Blaine has no idea what Kurt's schedule is.

After a rather convincing pep talk, Blaine finally convinces himself to call again. There's no harm in trying, right? And if he's lucky someone will give him Kurt's schedule.

He picks up his house phone, dials the number (that he's shamefully memorized from a day of staring at it), and waits with bated breath as it rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times-

_"Vocal Fantasies Phone Sex Services, how can I make your dreams come true?"_

The voice was deep and raspy, and most importantly _not Kurt._ Blaine's face fell and he had to contain his sigh as he replies.

"I-Is Kurt available? Can I, talk to him?"

_"Hummel's not here, but I'm sure I can help you out with _whatever_ you need, baby~."_ This guy was laying the sleaze on thick.

"I don't suppose you could tell me when his shift is?"

The other voice sounded irritated. _"No, that's against our privacy policy. Look kid, you're paying to talk to me, so let's talk, hmm? I have a rather pressing matter to unload on you, sweet-"_

Blaine hangs up. He doesn't bring himself to care. He just wants to talk to Kurt again, to get to know him.

It's weeks before Blaine ever does reach Kurt again. It's a rainy afternoon and Blaine's on his lunch break. The store has been empty all day and he's the only one working, so he sits on the cashier counter and weakly nibbles at his turkey sandwich.

His thoughts, as was common of late, drift to Kurt. The mysterious man on the other side of a phone line. Blaine had called at least 20 different times, desperate for Kurt to be the one to pick up, but it was to no avail. He'd almost given up altogether, certain that Kurt didn't want to burden himself with Blaine's problems after all and that he'd somehow found a way to avoid talking to him and Blaine was feeling more and more on the crazy side of desperate as the days went on.

He glanced dully around the dimly-lit room, made even more bleak by the grey light flooding in through the storefront windows, and pulled out his phone. His fingers ghost over the keypad in hesitation. It had been a while since he'd tried calling at this time of day, and really at this point he has nothing to lose.

It's like he lost Kurt and all the possibilities tied to him already.

So, setting himself up to be disappointed once again, he dials the number and puts the phone to his ear.

He waits through the ringing and prepares to mouth along with the required opening phrase when someone picks up.

_"Vocal Fantasies Phone Sex Services, how can I make your dreams come true?"_

Blaine's breath catches in his throat.

His eyes widen and he's frozen, unable to reply. _It's really him... It's Kurt!_ He'd almost forgotten what that beautiful voice sounded like.

_"You there sweetie?"_

Blaine finally finds his voice after some fish-like mouth-gaping and breaths out, "Kurt."

Kurt is silent on the other end for a moment and Blaine is terrified that his fears will be realized.

_"B-Blaine? Is it really you?"_ he sounds shocked, almost in disbelief. Blaine hopes to any god that will listen that it's a good thing.

"Yeah, it's me. I, tried to call, all the time, but-"

_"I'm sorry."_ the two simple words have a finality about them that unsettles Blaine.

"What do you have to be sorry about? It's not like I can just expect you to be the only one to ever answer, I shouldn't have called so much-"

He's cut off again, and Blaine really hopes its sadness he heard in Kurt's voice and not false sympathy. _"I'm sorry that I led you on like that. It wasn't fair of me to hang up on you and I didn't want you to get attached... To me." _it sounds like Kurt is struggling to keep his voice even._ "It's also against the job policy and I- Just, don't waste your time with me, ok? I'm not worth it." _

Blaine knows it must've taken a lot of pushing to get Kurt to admit something like that, something that must be one of his biggest insecurities, for whatever reason he feels that way. Blaine also thinks that he has no intention of leaving Kurt now.

"Kurt... Do you even know what you've done for me? For weeks I've had a reason to get up in the morning, I've felt hope for the first time in years, all because of our short conversation that night. You took the time to talk to me about nothing at all simply because I needed it, you took the time to _care_. Even if this is the last time we talk, I couldn't stop trying to reach you again, I needed to tell you how much you've helped me. Any time spent talking with you isn't a waste." There. It was all out. Now all he had to do was wait for Kurt's reply.

After a heavy silence it came. _"I... Blaine, please_..." Blaine's heart sank before Kurt spoke again. He was reciting a phone number_. "Call it. Now. I can't let you keep paying for this, please, just call."_ his voice was resolute, but on the verge of tears.

"O-Ok, I will." Blaine doesn't quite know what to feel as he scrambles for a pen and paper and scribbles down the number. Kurt disconnects the line and Blaine hurriedly punches in the new number, holding his breath and praying for Kurt to pick up. He breaths a sigh of relief when he does.

_"Thank you for calling, Blaine." _

"Of course. I, really wanted to keep talking to you. Aren't you, um, still working?" Blaine asks tentatively.

_"Fuck them. All they care about is money, they don't care about their 'clients'. I've been thinking about quitting for a while now, actually..." _

Blaine decides this is a good time to ask something that's been on his mind since he got hung up on that first night. "Why are you working there, Kurt? I mean it seems like you hate it, and you are obviously not a greedy sleaze-ball."

_"I... Really need the money. I can't really afford to quit."_ Blaine is suddenly ashamed of his well furnished apartment that his parents helped him buy when he moved out to NYC for college.

"Why not get a different job? I know it's not easy, but you should at least be happy..." he really doesn't know what to say. He wishes he could help.

Kurt laughs humorlessly through the phone line. _"I have three different jobs, actually. I have to. And that barely covers my food and rent."_

Blaine is shocked. A person like Kurt really shouldn't be in a position like that, and it kills him that he doesn't know how he can help. "Do you live in New York? I live in the city, we could get together for coffee or something-"

Kurt's breath hitches but after a moment he replies _"No. At least... Not yet."_

That 'yet' gives Blaine more hope than it probably should, and he presses on. "O-Ok. So Kurt, would you like to get to know each other better? Now that it's just you and me, no one standing to make money off of it." that gets a small chuckle from Kurt and Blaine feels like he's on the right track to getting Kurt to open to him. "I gave you a short version of my sop story last time, I want to know more about you."

He thinks he can hear a smile in Kurt's voice as he says back, _"...I'd like that."_

Blaine's smile threatens to split his face and he's _so_ glad he decided to call today. "So I'm guessing working three odd jobs isn't what you dreamed of doing as a little kid. What brings you to the big apple?" he hopes his suave persona is showing trough from his prep school days. He doesn't want to scare Kurt away.

_"Haha,"_ comes the dry reply, _"No, I, I want to be on broadway. Someday."_

"Broadway! I'm a huge fan, as you must be. I'm sure you're stunning, with a voice like that. I'd come see you every night." _Damn it, where did stalker mode come from?!_

Kurt just laughed, that sweet, soft noise from all those weeks ago and doesn't seem disturbed at all. _"Thank you, I'll let you be the judge of that someday. What about you, Mr CD sorter? What's your dream-job?" _

"I've always wanted to own my own restaurant, and be the head chef. I've only ever had diner jobs that don't allow for a creative pallet, though." Blaine would always have a special place in his heart for performing, but since he was a little boy he's always loved to cook. To try new things and create bold flavors, surprise people with his dishes. It was probably bred from all those years helping his mom bake cookies in the kitchen, he muses to himself.

"Oh, that's really interesting... Special. I've never met a chef before. I mean, I can cook better than anyone I know, but I'm not an artist at it or anything. Congrats Mr. Anderson, I'm intrigued." he could hear the smile in Kurt's voice.

The conversation went on for another hour, flitting from favorite musicals to preferred pets to family, specifically Kurt's. Blaine listened in awe as Kurt told stories about his dad's sense of humor and his brother's mannerisms, and he carefully told Kurt in turn about his mother's strained acceptance of him and his father's never-ending disappointment in him.

They end the call with promises to save each other's contacts and to talk again soon, and after a drawn out goodbye a huge grin spreads slowly across Blaine's face.

He holds the phone to his chest and sighs contentedly.

He finally has something look forward to.

**A/N: Yeah… I know the end is a bit meh, but there you go. I hope you guys are still enjoying it, and reviews mean a lot to me! Thanks for reading! **


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